


A Most Unexpected, Unwelcome Journey

by fae0412



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: BAMF Bilbo, F/M, fem!Bilbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:49:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fae0412/pseuds/fae0412
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belladonna "Bilbo" Baggins has had quite enough adventures. Her life has been a whirlwind, and she just settle down. When Gandalf, her dearest friend, comes knocking, well, how can she resist? Especially when he claims he can right the wrongs the world did to her. But dwarves are frustrating companions, and she would rather leave the world to burn. Can this company of dwarves return her wild spirit and loving heart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

Belladonna “Bilbo” Baggins comfortably rested by the warm blaze of the hearth’s fiery embers. The long wooden contraption holding her beloved pipe weed sat gingerly between her lips, her breath swallowing the heavy smoke into her body. Her mind, however, traveled leagues away, focused on the past more so than the present. She sighed, the sound full of sadness and home to many memories. Her hand delicately removed the pipe from her lips, placing it on the table next to her. Feet touched the solid wooden floor as she stood. The floor’s warmth tickled her toes, making a smile stretch on her face. Fires were lovely things. They warmed a home even in the cold of winter. Speaking of which, a fire must surely be out by now, and such a thing should be remedied lest the small faunt grow cold.

With that purpose in mind, she strove into the halls of her home, walking to the room of beloved little… something broke. In her home… preposterous. Nothing is ever out of place, she knows better than that; no single object is left precariously settled. Quick feet whispered her to the kitchen. She thanked the Valar she forwent shoes while inside, allowing her stealth and silence. The weight of the letter opener she acquired in her journey felt steady and sturdy in her hands. The callouses spoke of training and experience, even if the time spent with this specific weapon, or any of its kind, was few and sparse. No matter, she could well use it now.

A shadow flickered, making an abrupt noise, almost completely devoid of noise; almost. She struck, confidently and assuredly, as she was taught, into the shadow. Her sword was parried, and she prepared for a counterattack or defense. However, no such thing required action. Metal clambered onto the ground as the shadow stepped out. A black beard and matching mane, both streaked with silver, framed a strong jaw; cheekbones cut from stone, a forehead of marble, and dark brows framed eyes that glittered like dark sapphires. She knew this man, or rather, dwarf, and better than she knew herself.

“Rendered the mighty Bilbo Baggins speechless? Better men than I have failed in such an endeavor,” resounded the deep husk of Thorin Oakenshield.

“None died after banishing the hobbit for a rock,” she snapped back, dropping to pick up her weapon, “What are you doing here?”

“No greeting?” he questioned.

“No apology?” she countered, glaring.

“Bilbo…” he began, eyes softening, but a small whimper stopped his words.

“Mama?” asked a tiny voice, soft, “Mama?”

Bilbo’s eyes softened immediately, turning to the side to see a small shape leaning behind the round doorway. One little arm held a stuffed horse, the other grabbing the wood framing the entrance to the kitchen.

“My darling,” she stood to pick up the little hobbit, who curled into her arms and tucked his face into her shoulder, “Awake at such a late hour? Has my brave boy been battling orcs and saving damsels again?”

The little figure giggled.

“Not without mama. No adven’sure without mama,” proclaimed the little boy, who peeked at Thorin before curling into his mother again, “Who that, mama?”

“Properly, Frodo,” she lightly scolded, “Properly ask, my lad.”

“Who… ish that, mama?” he asked again, looking at her with big blue eyes for approval.

“My clever boy,” she praised, smiling gently at him, before lightly flicking his nose, “My lazy boy. You know better!”

He giggled again. She looked at the boy with affection smoldering in her eyes, before turning to the dwarf in front of her. Her hand reached and slightly petted the dark brown, almost black curls of her son.

“Mama?” he asked.

“This is Thorin, Frodo,” she said.

“Thorn?” he asked, “From your adven’sure?”

“Yes, darling, the very same.”

“Oh,” he said, “He short.”

The dwarf recoiled in offense.

“No insult offered, young Frodo, but you yourself are not tall in stature,” responded the king.

“He talk funny,” was the response. Bilbo laughed.

“You are tired, my boy. Let’s get you to bed, yes?” At the nod, the hobbit-elf spun on her heel and walked out, “Wait here Thorin.”

“Mama, is Thorin a king?” came the quiet voice again. Thorin heard them, their voices quieting as they drifted from him.

“Yes, little one. King Under the Mountain.”

“Gran Gandy said you were Queen Under the Mountain,” said Frodo innocently, and Bilbo gently laid a hand on his mouth, knowing his next question.

“My little faunt has had quite a night, and needs sleep. Tomorrow we will discuss this Under the Mountain business, my love. ‘Tis not a happy business, more like a bother, my little one.”

“Yes mama. G’night mama.”

“Goodnight, Frodo.” Steps became louder as they reached Throin.

“We will not wake him again. Follow me.” He did as ordered.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the preface, so it takes place in the future. it's kind of an intro to the where i plan to take the story. Yay or nay?


	2. Chapter 2

A small blob of smoke rose from the nest of wood that housed its source. The ring grew as it drifted, only to be met by another, similar creature, one that, surprisingly, fluttered. A small butterfly ventured through the ring, breaking it, before splashing into the face of the hobbit that created the ring of smoke. This particular hobbit was no ordinary hobbit. This little lass, with her curls of ginger reaching her shoulders and her hairless, covered feet, came from mixed parentage, though one would not know it by looking at her. Dark red skirts covered her legs, reaching just past her knees and tickling her legs with the white lace at the ends. Her waist was accentuated by a brown belt, held together by a gold buckle. A vest of even darker maroon adorned her torso, atop a white blouse, whose sleeves, loose and airy, came tight at her wrists. Honey eyes, free of the stress of motherhood, keenly observed the surrounding hills of rolling green. This little hobbit lass was Belladonna "Bilbo" Baggins. 

Bilbo sat contentedly, inhaling the smoke form her pipe-weed while gazing at the green pastures of the hills and playing children of the Shire. She loved this, the serenity, the calm… even if they all thought her odd. She understood their misconception, their confusion, even their suspicion. After all, a daughter of Belladonna Took and Bungo Baggins with no Bungo at all gave reason for suspicion, but better that be all than they learn the truth. Bungo raised her as his own, loved her as his own, and that is all that matters. It was no bother to them so long as the odd, non-hobbit-like lass in the Bag-End hole protected their homes. But oh, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins was in for a nasty surprise, bloody twat that she was…

As she sat, contemplating her past and present thoughts, she disregarded when the sun suddenly ceased casting its warm glow on her. Her honey eyes, closed and relaxed, did not think to open at the anomaly, for she resided at Bag End of the Shire, where no evil thought to disturb the peaceful hobbits, though probably for lack of knowledge of their existence than a simple mercy.

However, when the smoke butterfly burst in her face, Bilbo hastily opened her eyes, recognizing such mischief. Her mother may have been fond of that confound wizard, but she, particularly, cared not too greatly for his adventures. She squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. 

“Good morning,” was her statement, cold and direct.

“What do you mean?” answered the grey wizard, “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that is it a good morning whether I want it or not; or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular this morning; or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?”

“All of them at once, and perhaps a greeting and a farewell,” responded the hobbit, a small twitch of annoyance lifting the corner of her mouth and a narrow of her eyes crunching up her eyebrows. 

Her answer must have lacked a certain something, for the wizard’s grin turned into a frown. A noise reflecting deep thought escaped him, and the hobbit lass only lifted her eyebrows in response. Her legs swung to the side, body facing away in slight dismissal, but the wizard seemed to not understand her oh so subtle hints.

“Can I help you?” she asked, more direct and tone slightly sarcastic.

The wizard adopted a contemplative look, seeming to study her. She bristled at his sudden answer.  
“That remains to be seen,” he responded, looking at her with questioning eyes.

Indignation flared through her being. If he was going to be a twit, he could very well leave. If she could offer no help to him, then he should very well be on his bloody way. As she prepared to voice this, however, the wizard spoke once more.

“I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure,” stated the wizard, raising his own eyebrows and giving her a knowing look.

The pipe left her mouth with a speed resembling lightning. Her mouth opened to form a retort, but whatever words she was going to say died on her tongue. Her mind flashed back to past adventures. She raised an eyebrow at the wizard, eyes once more narrowing.

“An adventure? No, I don’t imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures,” she stood, her voice giving a giant hint of disdain for said adventures, “Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things,” she began to list as she opened her mailbox and retrieved its contents, “Make you late for dinner.” 

Throughout the entire speech, Bilbo’s tone of sarcasm and disregard made the wizard silently sigh on the inside. Perhaps the time with the elves had been a tad, well, overdone, and her father had been upset she’d been late for dinner, but adventures being nasty? She had fun, if the lass could recall. He only stared as she read her mail, making little noises of recognition or surprise at what rested in her hands. Her mockery was most certainly not appreciated, thank you.

Gandalf did, however, take a small bit of delight in the increasing peaks the hobbit sent his way, obviously growing at bit anxious at his continual negation to leave. She put the pipe back in her mouth and inhaled a bit of smoke.

“Good morning,” she dismissed, giving a quick turn and raising both her eyebrows as she trailed up the stairs leading to her home.

“To think that I should have lived to be good morninged by Belladonna Took’s son as if I was selling buttons at the door!” exclaimed Gandalf.

The hobbit turned at that, glaring at the wizard through the surprise at his tone. He had never spoken to her in that manner before! She had never answered in this manner before but she had good reason.

“Beg your pardon?” she asked.

“You’ve changed,” announced the wizard, looking at the hobbit and shaking his head, “And not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins.”

The hobbit lass did not know what to do, what to answer to that. This man, this wizard, what to say? She went, she is ashamed to remember, down the path of woeful ignorance.

“I’m sorry do I know you?” as soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to her head repeatedly on a door. If nothing, this would only encourage him, and she very well did know him, as her behavior obviously bloody well hinted at, good gods. 

“Well you know my name,” said the wizard, guessing at her game, “Although you don’t remember I belong to it. I am Gandalf. And Gandalf means,” he paused, moving slightly as if trying to find words to make her understand, “Me.”

She did understand. A name does not mean a person. Though her surname may be Baggins, her blood was Took, and her heart was Took, and her brain was Took, she was a Took. No, she might have been, but not now. And she had to let him know as much, and this little game seemed to be working best. His eyes stared at her, searching for a spark of realization. She would not humor him. Her pipe lifted at him as she began her reply.

“Not Gandalf the wandering wizard who made such excellent fireworks,” a bit of flattery went a long way, “Old Took used to have them on All Summer’s Eve.”

Gandalf smiled, thinking Bilbo was answering positively to their game. He turned and chuckled, looking as if his work had been rewarded. Well, Bilbo could not very well leave that expression on his face, could she? She dropped her tone down to her sarcastic disdain voice.

“No idea you were still in business.”

The smile dropped off the wizard’s face faster than the pipe returned to Bilbo’s mouth. The wooden instrument did little to hide the uncomfortable flutters that now tingled all through her body.

“And where else should I be?” he asked with a glare.

Yes, that had been a mistake. Stupid, stupid old Took, always thinking without her brain; Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Her feet shuffled as she put weight on the different appendages, shifting to and fro and muttering, trying to pass it off as a chuckled when no words left her mouth. The glare sent her way eased at her obvious anxiousness.

“Well, I am pleased that you remember something about me,” more than something unpleasant went to unsaid comment, “even if it’s only my fireworks.”

His face turned softer, skewing into, what is that… affection? And now, wait, what is that? What is he doing now? No…

“Well, that’s decided,” he said, not giving her a moment to intervene, “It’ll be very good for you, and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others” 

She stared at him, piqued and shocked. Her head shook trying to understand what just happened. 

“Wha… What? No, No! No- wait,” she finally answered, turning and walking back toward her home. She turned to address him, “I do not want any adventures,” she pointed to the ground with her mail, “here. Thank you, not today. No- I,” cutting herself off before she finished her words sounds truly convincing, well done Bilbo, “I suggest you try over the hill, or, or, um,” she was doing a marvelous job, she told herself, truly, brilliant, bloody brilliant, “across the water,” she signaled with her pipe, pointing, as if that would send the wizard away, “Good morning.”

With that, she all but ran into the hobbit hole, closing it with lock and key and leaning heavily against it. That was beautifully handled, well done you daft hobbit, she told herself. She sighed, running a hand through her lock and pulling on them.

The mail was set down on the counter and, as she was about to venture further into her home, she heard a scratching noise on her door. She looked out the window only to be met with a glare of Gandalf’s. Stubbornly, her head shook vehemently. He raised an eyebrow and walked away. Running to another window, one in her study, she saw the wizard walk off onto the road. She sighed. Might as well expect company for dinner, what with the mark on the door. Knowing Gandalf, who knows who, or what, he’d be bringing for dinner. Some fish would do nicely, with lemon and a pastry for dessert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank to all the kudos and comments! I love to hear your opinion on the story. If at any time, the story seems to take a bad turn, please let me know. Hope you all like the chapter! :)  
> By the way, in case anyone was curious about her outfit, i designed it on a website. Here is the link.  
> http://lizap.deviantart.com/art/Bilbo-359711212?ga_submit_new=10%253A1363397203


	3. Chapter 3

Night came, and found Bilbo Baggins preparing a small meal for two. Two fish, some vegetables and scones all sat, warm and prepared, waiting to be eaten. Bilbo herself sat in her kitchen, adding salt and lemon to her own fish, getting ready to enjoy her meal. Gandalf never said when he’d arrive, and she was not going to sit hungry and wait for… and there went the doorbell. Perhaps she’d been mistaken then. Surely, he’s earlier than he’s ever been, but she had been thinking lowly of him lately, and well… she takes that back, there’s a bloody dwarf at the door, Gandalf is scheming old goat who will be getting a very stern talking to but for now…

“Dwalin,” said the big dwarf, bald head lowering as he bent low in a bow, “At your service.”

The dwarf’s entire body resembled a tree, a giant, enormous, monstrous, stout tree, with a fur around his shoulders. His beard covered over his neck, while his hair was everywhere but on his head. How that came to be baffled Bilbo, but the dwarf seemed to be covered in hair everywhere except on the top of his scalp.

She looked down at herself, thanking the heavens she had expected some company tonight; the deep blue, almost aquatic color of her skirts complemented the bright, yellow vest nicely, and her simple white blouse could be considered for greeting company at any time. Her only complaint was her lack of shoes, but she was in the Shire, after all. Seeing that her new guest stood, bowed low, waiting for her reply, she abruptly left her mind to its musings. 

“Belladonna Baggins, at yours,” she answered, awkwardly nodding her head at him, “Um,” the dwarf entered her home and stopped at her noise, “Do we, um, know each other?”

His incredulous stare was followed by an abrupt no. He walked forward, entering her home and lifting his cloak, hanging it over one arm.

“Which way lassie? Is it down here?” he asked, turning to her.

“Is what down where?” she asked, shocked.

“Supper,” he replied, throwing his cloak into her arms, “He said there’d be food, and lots of it!”

“Excuse me?” she cried as he trailed into her home, heading into the kitchen.

She threw the cloak back at him.

“I do not know what counts for dwarven manners, but hobbits never throw their belongings at their hosts, and demand supper, much less when the host did not know she was to entertain guests!”

The dwarf stared at the hobbit, taken aback and startled. He looked in his arms, and gave a sheepish look, his head burrowing slightly between his shoulders. Apologetic eyes turned to look at the hobbit lass.

“My sincere apologies, Mistress Hobbit,” he began, “I forgot myself in my haste. I did not know you were unaware of my and mine companions arrivals, as we were told you were expecting us.”

“It is quite alright,” she said, pleased at the change in behavior, “You seem to be in a hurry somewhat, so I’d wager it’s important. I gather the ‘he’ you mentioned earlier was in reference to Gandalf the Grey, wizard?” At the nod, she continued, “Well, I was only expecting to host the wizard, so in revenge for his negligence to mention you arrival, you may eat his supper.” She led the dwarf into the kitchen, getting him settled and presenting him with the meal.

“You only made enough for two?” asked the dwarf, raising his eyebrows, beginning to eat.

“Master Dwalin,” began the hobbit, “We just finished discussing my lack of information regarding the night, please, leave all obvious connotations for another gathering.”

The dwarf laughed, giving a small shake of his head.

“You are quite entertaining, Miss Baggins,” he said, “But you are also correct. There are thirteen to be expected, that I know of. Fourteen if you count Gandalf.”

“Good heavens! How on earth am I to prepare for such a gathering in such a small time slot?” She glared slightly as he bit off the head of the fish, “Master Dwalin, please, that was unnecessary.”

“Very good this,” he said, ignoring her look of slight disgust, “Any more?”

She sighed and stood, turning to look around. The freshly baked pastries by the window were more, she supposed. Picking them up, she took one and began nibbling on it. 

“Help yourself,” she offered it to him, but pulled it back when he tried to reach for it, “I expect some more information and some help to prepare, if you would,” she warned as she handed him the basket.

His laugh was more jovial, as if sharing jokes with an old friend. He devoured the pastries, heartily eating them and vigorously emptying the basket.

“Have no doubt, my aid is at your service,” he gave a slight mocking head tilt, mimicking her earlier nod.

The bell went off again, and her head snapped to turn to it, eyes adopting a startled deer look as the implications of thirteen dwarves hit her.

“That’ll be the door, lass,” said Dwalin, laughing again.

Her glare only brought more laughter from his lips. Her feet hurried to open the door, mentally preparing herself for whatever could possibly be hiding behind the green wood. Surprise filled her when a kind looking dwarf in a white beard and a red robe greeted her. She returned the gesture when he sent her a kind smile.

“Balin, at your service,” said the dwarf.

“Good evening,” she replied, smile falling when she realized that this was, in fact, not a dream.

“Yes, yes it is,” began the new dwarf as he walked into the home, “Though I think it might rain later,” he stopped and looked at the hobbit lass intently, “Am I late?”

“Late for what exactly?” asked Bilbo, realizing she still had no idea why thirteen bloody dwarves were going to invade her home.

“Oh, haha!” came the dwarf’s jolly exclamation when he caught sight of Dwalin, who turned a jar of pastries to gather the treats within, “Evening, brother!”

The hobbit’s glare sent his way earned a sheepish smile and a small shrug, though the bigger dwarf did perk up at seeing the new one. The noise he made sounded like a giggle, if the damn brute was capable of such a thing.

“By my beard,” began Dwalin, “You are shorter and wider than last we met!”

“Wider, not shorter,” corrected the older dwarf, “Sharp enough for both of us,” the almost wink hinted at good-natured teasing.

The two dwarves laughed, or rather ‘dwarf giggled,’ as they placed their hands on the other’s shoulders. When the head but made an appearance, Bilbo decided to make herself known.

“Excuse me?” she inquired, “I hate to interrupt, but are you sure you are at the right house?”

“Aye, lass, the wizard gave us detailed instructions, and the mark on the door gave the place away, if nothing else,” said Balin, confused, “Did he not tell you we were coming?”

“No brother, the wizard neglected to inform our host,” informed Dwalin, “But she graciously fed me, and still allowed us use of her home.”

“Bless you lass, not many would have done so,” said Balin.

“It’s quite alright, but if I am to host a company of thirteen dwarves and a wizard, would you perhaps help me in preparing the food and moving furniture to accommodate such a number?”

“It would be our pleasure!” exclaimed Balin.

“This way to the pantry then, you can tell me what dwarfs enjoy eating, and such?” she asked.

“Lass, let us take care of it, you simply answer the door!” suggested Balin.

“Alright, well this way,” as the hobbit led them to the pantry she explained her small predicament and apologized to Dwalin at her earlier snappish rude behavior, “It’s not that I don’t like visitors, I like visitors as much as the next hobbit, I simply like to know them before they come visiting. The thing is, well, the thing is, no, that’s cheese, don’t throw it!”

“But it’s riddled with mold!” said Dwalin.

“It’s gone blue!” added Balin.

“It is blue cheese! It is supposed to be both those things, it is lovely with some bread and wine, I’ll thank you not to waste it!” she then realized how rude she sounded, “I don’t know either of you, not in the slightest, and yet I snap and behave awfully. I don’t mean to be blunt, but I have to speak my mind, I am sorry.”

“Apology accepted lass,” said Balin as they paused in their little conversation and turned sympathetic faces to her, “We understand, the idea of hosting so many unknown guests is daunting and can rattle the nerves. Worry not lass, we have it under control,” he turned to look at the empty glass his brother held, “Oh now fill it up brother.”

The bell rang again, and Bilbo almost through her arms up in frustration. 

“Eru help me,” she muttered, “I’ll leave you the food then, shall I?”

Walking to the door, her nerves only increased, making her even more nervous as the green door came closer and closer. Her feet almost spirited away when she finally reached the damn thing. Opening it, she found two new dwarves, and the sight sacred her out of her wits. Thirteen dwarfs!! 

“Fili,” announced the golden haired one.

“And Kili,” said the other, while in unison, they said “At your service.”

“You must be Miss Boggins,” assumed Kili.

“Baggins, actually, Belladonna Baggins,” she muttered, “I rather wish you had come to the wrong house, and that you wouldn’t come in, but I suppose its rather useless to say.”

“Has it been canceled?” exclaimed Kili, leaning at the door as if afraid she would try to close it.

“No one told us,” said Fili, looking between his companion and the hobbit with suspicion.

“Did I say it was canceled?” the emphasis on the it was from still not knowing what the bloody it was, “I think not. No, nothing’s been canceled.”

“Well that’s a relief,” said Kili walking in.

Fili followed soon after, strutting in like he owned the world and was master of the house.

“Careful with these,” said the golden haired dwarf, dropping weapons into the arms of the stunned hobbit, “I just had them sharpened.”

“It’s nice this place,” began Kili, “Did you do it yourself?”

“I beg both your pardons, gentlemen, if you are even fit to be called that!” exclaimed the hobbit, dumping the pile into Fili’s arms, “Manners seem to be lacking for dwarfs, or only for the ones that deem it fit to wipe their feet on their hosts possessions! As for you, do you always go around dumping things on your host? You may hang your coats on the hook there,” she pointed, “You may place your weapons where your companion was wiping his feet,” a glare was sent that way, “And you may show some more respect if you are to dine here. Am I understood?”

Both dwarfs hurried to do as told, though their mannerisms at experience in scolding’s and a shared history of mischief. Brothers then. Dwalin chose that moment to walk in.

“Fili, Kili, come on, give us a hand,” the previously shamefaced dwarf looked at the bigger dwarf with a smile as he followed him.

“Mister Dwalin!” he exclaimed.

“I apologize for our actions, Miss Baggins,” said Fili as he also went to follow them, “My brother and I forgot ourselves.” Her eyes softened.

“It’s alright lad. I am a bit frazzled, I was not informed of any of your arrivals, and so my nerves are a bit frayed at the moment. I should not have snapped quite so harshly,” she compromised. 

Together they walked into the dinning room, where Balin greeted the two and sent a smile to the hobbit.

“Help get this in, otherwise we’ll never fit everyone,” said Balin.

“Oh yes,” began the hobbit, earning amused glances from the two older hobbit, “Nine more dwarfs to go, how silly of me to forget.”

The bell rang as she spoke, and a curse might have slipped past her lips, though no one but the five of them had to know. 

“Oh no, no no no no no no. There’s nobody home!” she whispered, as if that did anything to reverse the situation. She glanced back at the smiling dwarfs, “If I faint, spare me the humiliation and take me to my bedrooms, will you?”

“Ha, ‘course lass,” humored Dwalin.

“Gandalf, there are far too many dwarfs in my dinning room as it is. If this, you clot head, is your idea of a joke, it is in very poor taste!”

The amused glances spoke of the fondness the dwarfs already had for the hobbit lass. Said lass turned to open the door, stepping back in surprise when a load dwarfs fell at her feet. 

“Gandalf,” she said as she spotted him, smiling and looking as jovial as ever, “You have some explaining to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope my interpretation of this scene is as amusing and plot relevant as the one portrayed in the movie. If not, well, I tried! Haha.


	4. Chapter 4

The wizard’s innocent expression did nothing to soothe the hobbits nerves. The dwarves introduced themselves cordially enough, but when they all began to ransack her pantry to prepare their feast… well, Bilbo did not take all too kindly to that. 

“Put that back, not that! Oh dear,” she kept rumbling to herself, turning in circles to look at every dwarf that passed by her, “A tad excessive isn’t it? Do you want a cheese knife?” she questioned Bombur as he passed by with four blocks of cheese.

“Cheese knife?” asked Bofur, “He eats it by the block!”

“Oh dear, no, not this chair!” she stopped Bifur on his way in, who began talking in a gruff, unfamiliar language, “No, take it back please,” she motioned back to the living area, “Use that one instead, please.”

Bilbo began explaining which chairs they were allowed to use, while Gandalf assisted the dwarves with setting the table. At one point, the Bilbo threw her hand up in the air. 

“Oh, bloody well screw it! Do what you like! If I am to host dwarves, I might as well do it right!”

Cries of “Here here!” and “Aye!” went around the kitchen and dinning room, while the hobbit lass just shook her head and twisted a piece of fabric in her hands.

“Excuse me, Mr. Gandalf, sir, might I tempt you with a cup of chamomile?” as he asked, the dwarf poured some hot water into a cup.

“Oh, no thank you Dori, a glass of red wine for me, please, I think,” answered the wizard.

He proceeded to head into the hallway between the pantry and kitchen, counting and naming the dwarfs to assure the entire company had found their meeting location. The last was, of course, late. 

“We appear to be one dwarf short,” muttered Gandalf.

“He is late is all,” stated Dwalin as he lifted his cup of ale, “He traveled north to a meeting of our kin, he will come.”

“Mr. Gandalf,” searched Dori, handing the wizard his glass of wine, “A glass of red wine as requested. It has got a fruity tang,” explained the dwarf. 

“Oh thank you Dori, cheers!”

Bilbo walked around, examining the mess in her home, sighing and shaking her head. Her evaluation led her to her pantry. The hobbit examined her pantry, shaking her head at the emptiness. However, a loud call grabbed her attention.

“Master Hobbit!” exclaimed Balin, “Come, I’ve saved you a seat. Please enjoy the meal, you’ve been nothing but gracious about our invasion.”

“Invasion? She’s the host!” exclaimed Dori.

“Aye, but she had no idea,” explained Dwalin as he pulled out her chair, nodding at her thanks.

“Dwalin was just informing me of the lass’s surprise when her door rang, and she came face to face with a monstrous being,” began Balin, suspense hanging in the air, “Dwalin!”

The laughter abounded in the table, the merrymaking spreading into the hobbit and easing her nerves. A loud cheer rang out when Bofur yelled out “Bombur, catch!” and the recipient did just that, catching what appeared to be a ball of white food in his mouth. The merrymaking of the dwarfs was amusing, at least, so Bilbo contented herself with some entertainment for the night.

“Not monstrous, no. Mister Dwalin was actually quite helpful, after he learned Gandalf had neglected to inform me of your visit,” said the hobbit, helping herself to some food and taking some ale form Fili, who went around on top of the table offering drink to all, “But it all turned out for the best, I think.”

“Gandalf did not inform you?” asked Dori, appearing scandalized, “My goodness gracious! I apologize for our intrusion! You must think us barbarians!” 

The dwarves turned to send a glare to Gandalf, who innocently looked at the hobbit.

“Now, did I forget to mention this little gathering? Must have slipped my mind, old man that I am!” he excused.

“Oh yes, old man indeed,” mocked Bilbo playfully before addressing the offended dwarfs, “Fear not Master Dwarfs, I find you all gracious guests, and quite pleasant, if very merry, company!” a cheer went up at that, “You all helped make the preparations, and are making the night exciting!” another cheer, “And I am used to his meddling ways, fear not. But thirteen dwarfs, well, this is new.”

“Used to his ways? Have you gone a many adventures with Gandalf?” asked Ori.

“I, well,” the hobbit looked uncertain, much more uncomfortable than before.

“Now now, Ori, you mustn’t pry,” chided Dori.

“We just met the lass, and intruded on her home. Let’s not interrogate her as well,” added Oin.

“She’s doing fine, egh lads?” called out Gloin, laughing when the dwarfs cheered their hostess.

“A toast to our fine hostess!” came Nori’s call, and all the dwarfs began drinking heavily.

At a loss, the hobbit looked to Dwalin, who motioned to his ale and drank quite a large amount. The hobbit shrugged and did as bid, spluttering when the dwarfs began belching loudly. Her gaze widened and her laughter rang out with the rest of them when Ori’s burp surpassed the rest in length and loudness. After the dinner ended, the dwarfs began cleaning up.

“No wait, N… Noli?” she asked.

“Nori, lass,” supplied the dwarf.

“Oh, my mistake, I apologize. Anyway, that is no dishcloth, it is a doily,” she explained.

“But it’s full of holes,” said Bofur.

“Mister, um, Booler?” she questioned. 

“Bofur,” he said.

“It is supposed to look like that,” she explained, “It’s crochet.”

“And what a wonderful game it is too, if you’ve got the balls for it,” answered the dwarf.

Bilbo shook her head and excused herself, walking forward toward to set the fabric down. She muttered to herself, anxiously pulling at the doily as she tried to take deep breaths to calm herself.

“My dear Bilbo, what on earth is the matter?” asked Gandalf as he passed by.

“What’s the matter? What’s the matter is that I am surrounded by dwarves. I have no problem with them,” she began, “But what the bloody hell are they doing here?!”

“Oh, they are quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them,” this was said as the pair observed Nori and Bofur fighting over a chain of sausages.

“That does not answer my question!” she began, “What are they doing here? I just want to know what they are doing in my house! What are you planning?!”

“Excuse me,” interrupted Ori.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry dear, what is it?” Bilbo’s tone took on an almost fond light with the young dwarf.

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?” asked the dwarf.

“Here Ori give it to me,” said Fili, walking up to them and taking the plate.

When the blonde dwarf threw the plate to his brother, Bilbo almost had a heart attack. It was her mother’s best dishes! What if they should break? Gandalf just managed to avoid getting clocked in the head, and Bilbo hurriedly followed to see where Kili was throwing her dishes.

“Excuse me! That is my mother’s... Oh dear, be careful!” she fretted, “It’s over a hundred years old!”

Bilbo turned into the dinning room, nervously pacing here and there. When she caught sight of the forks and knife battle, her sigh and headshake betrayed her wariness of the dwarf’s mannerisms. 

“And could you not do that? You’ll blunt them!” she insisted.

“Oh, you hear that lads?” asked Bofur, “She says we’ll blunt the knives.”

The dwarves picked up a merry tune after that, singing as they threw plates here and there, dancing and merrily playing instruments as they sang about Bilbo’s worries over her cutlery and dishes. Gandalf’s amused expression as he smoked his pipe only served to aggravate her further. She stole the wizard’s pipe to quell her anger, and his bemused expression brought a small smirk to her lips.

Blunt the knives and bend the forks!   
Smash the bottles and burn the corks!   
Chip the glasses and crack the plates!   
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates -  

Cut the cloth and tread the fat!   
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!   
Pour the milk on the pantry floor!   
Splash the wine on every door!  

Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl;   
Pound them up with a thumping pole;   
And when you've finished, if any are whole,  
Send them down the hall to roll!    
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!

When the dwarves finished, the plates all laid neatly stacked and cleaned on her table. She laughed along with the dwarfs; playfully punching Gandalf on the arms for the scare they gave her. Their merrymaking was interrupted by a knock on the door, which made a silence fall over the gathered company. Bilbo looked at Gandalf, then at Dwalin, and then again at Gandalf, her question evident on her face.

“He is here,” muttered the wizard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need someone to edit my chapters and tell me if they are good or if they need to be redone. anyone interested??


	5. Chapter 5

The wizard stood to open the door. Bilbo let out a low noise at being left uninformed again. Balin and Dwalin both gave her sympathetic looks, while Fili and Kili both smiled brightly at her. She shook her head and made to follow the wizard. Said wizard opened the door before the hobbit could reach him. She arrived at his side just in time to catch a glimpse of dark hair and lifted eyebrows as she skirted around the wizard, deftly being hidden from view so she could examine the newcomer. Her actions were not lost on Balin or Nori, who both smiled at the hobbit.

“Gandalf,” came a deep voice, “I thought you said this place was easy to find,” the dwarves all gathered up by the entrance that joined the dinning room and the entrance hall, “I lost my way, twice,” Gandalf gestured in and the dwarf walked in.

He was royal, of that Bilbo was sure. The other dwarves all bowed at the waist when he turned to them, and his nod was regal. His entire persona screamed majestic and noble, so the deduction was hardly difficult. Long dark hair accentuated eyes that seemed to swim between blue hues, and his posture was straight, hinting at discipline and strict habits. His face bore a slight resemblance to the brothers she had met that night, so a sort of relation must be had there, but oh, the dwarf had not finished speaking…

“I’d had not found it at all had it not been for the mark on the door,” concluded the dwarf.

“Mark?” asked the hobbit, rounding the doorway and making her way to the front alongside the two males, “Unless someone did some meddling, Gandalf, there should be no mark upon that door! I just had it painted!”

“Indeed, I did it myself!” announced Gandalf.

“And you sound so proud,” muttered Bilbo, gazing at the mark on the door before shutting the wooden appendage.

“Enough of that, Bilbo,” the wizard guided the hobbit, steering her to face the new dwarf, “Now, Belladonna Baggins, allow me to introduce you to the leader of our company,” Bilbo thought the pause was just pure dramatics, “Thorin Oakenshield.” 

“So,” he began, taking a step toward her when Kili took his coat as her other guests began to surround them, “This is the hobbit.”

The dwarf began to circle her, going behind her. Her past encounters warned against allowing such an action, however, so she angled herself to always have an eye on him. If the dwarf noticed, he did not say. Her eyes followed he as he examined her.

“Tell me, Miss. Baggins,” asked the dwarf, “Have you done much fighting?”

“Excuse me?” she asked, taken aback at his rudeness.

“Axe or sword, what is your weapon of choice?” continued the interrogation.

“I have some skill at conkers, if you must know,” snapped the hobbit, sarcasm lacing her every word, “But I fail to see its relevance at this particular time.”

Her stance betrayed her anger, and some of the dwarves looked taken aback at her reaction. The dwarf came to her front again, and crossed his arms.

“Thought as much,” came the smug answer, “She looks more like a nursemaid than a burglar.” A grumbling laugh resounded in the room.

“And you sir, are more a troll than a king,” snapped the hobbit, steeping up closer to the dwarf, “I care not if you are dwarf, man, elf, or bloody Istari,” she glared at the wizard at this, “If you come into my home, insult me, pretend to know me when you have but stepped through my threshold, good sir, you can very well leave through the door you entered!” she punctuated this with a poke at his chest, “I have been overwhelmed because that blasted wizard neglected to inform me of your or your companions coming, so forgive me the slight frustration when I try to accommodate my home for thirteen dwarves and end up with an ungrateful twit that frolics around as if his sword is so far up his arse he…”

“Bilbo!” interrupted Gandalf, though his twinkling eyes betrayed his amusement. 

“Don’t you ‘Bilbo’ me!” she retaliated, turning to face him, “You neglected to tell me anything regarding this assembly, from my purpose, or your purpose, or your goal, or any bloody detail concerning the evening,” her glare could have frozen hell over, “Now, wizard you will tell me what the hell this entire gathering is about, and why a company of thirteen dwarves was invited into my house and why this royal arse,” she glared at said arse, “Has seen fit to interrogate me and judge me based on the three seconds he stepped into my home, as a guest no less, and now prances around as if he bloody well owned the entire Shire!” when they hesitated, she yanked on the wizard’s beard and dragged him back into the dinning room, “Now!”

Fiery and angry, the hobbit lass led the march back to the table. She sat at the head of the table, anticipating that the rude dwarf would want that seat. When he came to her and looked at her, she raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the seat to her right, as a disgruntled wizard smoothing out his beard took the seat to her left.

“Is there any food left?” all the dwarves froze at being addressed, “Well?”

“Aye,” answered Bombur, “Some broth.”

“Good, one of you get his royal arseness here a bowl with bread, and perhaps an ale. Now,” she turned to Gandalf, “Shall we discuss the reason for this entire debacle?”

“Would it not be in better manners to allow the new comer to catch up with his comrades?” questioned Gandalf.

“Playing on my manners, wizard,” t’sked the hobbit, “Fine,” she turned to Thorin, who sat as his broth was laid before him, “Go on then.” She sat back, crossing her arms and waiting for him to begin.

They all settled, and Thorin began to eat his broth. An awkward silence settled over the company as the dwarf king ate; Bilbo’s glares, interchanging between Gandalf and Thorin, set the stage for disaster any second. Balin, bless his soul, broke the ice, so to speak.

“What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?” asked the elderly dwarf.

“Did they all come?” asked Dwalin.

“Aye,” answered Thorin’s deep voice, “Envoys from all seven kingdoms.”

“And what do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?” asked Dwalin, “Is Dain with us?” the deep intake of breath from the dwarf king answered the question.

“They will not come,” the table came alive in whispers and shakes of heads, “They say this quest is ours, and ours alone.” 

“So, a quest then?” interrupted Bilbo, “To what end?”

“Ah, Bilbo,” acknowledged Gandalf, “My dear hobbit, if you could let us have a little more light.”

She nodded, standing and retrieving two more candles. When Gandalf waited for her to light them, she turned and gave him a look of contempt, raising her eyebrows at the lit candle next to his arm.

“Yes, yes of course,” Gandalf took the candle and lit it using another candle, while Dwalin began to clear the space in front of Gandalf when the old man produced a paper, “Far to the east, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands, and wastelands,” as he said this, the wizard began unfolding the parchment, “Lies a single solitary peak.”

“The Lonely Mountain,” read Bilbo, “The lost kingdom of Erebor,” she mumbled to herself.

“And what does a hobbit know of Erebor?” asked Thorin, leaning back to look at the hobbit.

“About as much as you, dwarf, know of this hobbit, I presume,” she snapped at the dwarf, before turning to the wizard, “Surely you don’t mean to venture there?”

“Oin has read the signs,” began Gloin, “And the signs say, it is time.”

“Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountains, as it was foretold,” began Oin, “When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.”

Gandalf lit his pipe using his fingers, offering Bilbo a puff, which she gladly took, smiling when he almost lit his beard on fire with the flame on his finger.

“Now, I am assuming by beast, you are referring to Smaug, the fire drake,” asked Bilbo.

“Well, we know it as Smaug the Terrible, but aye,” said Bofur, “Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Air born fire breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks, extremely fond of precious metals…”

“Yes I know what a dragon is, thank you,” snapped Bilbo, “I gather you don’t mean to simply ask him to leave then?”

“I’m not afraid!” announced Ori, standing, “I’m up for it. I’ll give him a taste of dwarfish ire right up his jacksie!”

Comments of “aye Ori” and “good lad” came from everyone around the table.

“The task would be hard enough with an army behind you,” Bilbo’s tone brought the cheer down slightly.

“Aye, and we number only thirteen. Nor thirteen of the best nor brightest,” added Balin.

Grumbles rose around the table at that.

“We may be few in number,” stated Fili, drawing the attention to his end of the table, “But we are fighters, all of us, to the last dwarf!”

“And do you forget,” added Kili, “We have a wizard in our company! Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time.”

“As the grand Wanderer, he ought to have killed at least fifty, I’d say,” teased Bilbo, casting a look at the wizard.

“Well, I wouldn’t say… that is to say…” began the wizard.

“How many then?” asked Dori, “How many dragons have you killed?”

Bilbo cackled inwardly at the wizard’s distress, delighting in the choking sound and huffing the wizard was producing; the smoke tumbling out of his mouth added to the amusement, no doubt. The hobbit snatched the pipe and took a puff.

“I’m afraid they can’t understand you Gandalf,” she said sweetly.

“Go on then, give us a number!” with that, protests rose and the dwarfs with the. 

They stood and began arguing until Thorin stood with a dwarfish cry.

“If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too?” he asked, looking around, “Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing,” he looked around the table, “Wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we lie back, while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor!” agreements rose up.

“You forget, the front gate is sealed,” said Balin, “There is no way into the mountain.”

“A dwarven mountain with only one entrance?” asked Bilbo.

The company turned to look at her, and the disdain from Thorin was palpable.

“I am sure you are quite knowledgeable in the architecture of dwarfs, hobbit,” he began.

“I am sure you do not mean to sound quite so rude, again, dwarf,” she interrupted him. When he settled, she continued, “Aren’t there two entrances to every dwarven mountain? One hidden passage that leads into the city, but cannot be seen until certain circumstances are aligned?” thirteen pairs of dwarven eyes stared her down, “Have none of you heard of books? By Eru!” 

“Indeed you are right Bilbo,” pronounced Gandalf, twirling his fingers and procuring a key, turning to the older dwarf and the king, “So, my dear Balin, that may not be entirely true.”

“How came you by this?” asked Thorin, focused on the key.

“It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safe keeping,” stated Gandalf “It is yours now.”

The dwarves allowed this information to sink in.

“Where is this door?” asked Fili.

“These runes,” said Gandalf, pointing at the map, “Speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls.”

“There’s another way in!” said Kili.

Bilbo smiled softly at the young dwarf’s child-like glee, while noticing something. She took the map and examined the lettering on the side, holding it to the candle light.

“There may be, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed,” said Gandalf.

“These runes,” began the lass, “They are in Ancient Dwarfish,” she looked up at Gandalf, handing him the paper, “Now, I may be mistaken, but last time I checked, you did not speak or read that language.”

“Correct Bilbo,” said Gandalf, “The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map, but I do not have the skill to find it,” he looked at Thorin at this point, “But there are others in Middle Earth who can. The task I have in mind requires no small amount of stealth and courage,” he looked around, “But if you are careful and clever, I believe it can be done.”

“That’s why we need a burglar!” exclaimed Ori.

“Indeed,” began Bilbo, standing and facing Gandalf, “By my reckoning, you’ll need a good burglar, an expert, so I wish you all the luck in Middle Earth with your venture…”

“Are you?” asked Gloin.

“Am I? Heavens, I am no burglar!”

“She said she’s an expert!” announced Oin gleefully. 

“No, No! I’m no burglar. I’ve never stolen anything in my life,” she said, grabbing the back of her chair tightly, glaring at Thorin when he sent a smirk her way.

“I have to agree with Miss Baggins,” said Balin, “She is hardly burglar material.”

“… Yes, listen to Balin,” said Bilbo, nodding but hiding the slight feeling of insult.

“Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves,” added Dwalin.

At this, Bilbo’s head snapped to look at the dwarf, eyes darkening before she shook her head, seemingly clearing it. Then, she nodded vigorously, agreeing with the dwarves. Her hands squeezed her chair tighter every time her worth was devalued, but she kept silent.

“Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar she is!” he announced, “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet, in fact, they can pass unseen by most, if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage,” he turned to Thorin, “You asked me to find the fourteenth member of our company, and I have chosen Miss. Baggins. There is a lot more to her than appearances, and she’s got a great deal more to offer than any of you know. Including herself,” the wizard turned to look at Bilbo, who gave him an icy glare.

The hobbit rose from leaning on the chair, straightening her back and pulling her shoulders back when Gandalf looked at Thorin again.

“You must trust me on this,” Gandalf warned Thorin.

“Very well,” agreed Thorin, “We will do it your way,” he turned to Balin, “Give her the contract.”

The dwarves all muttered some form of comment, while Balin rose and began to hand Bilbo the contract, summarizing what was in it. Bilbo’s indignant expression stopped the white haired dwarf in his tracks.

“Just because the wizard says I am a burglar does not mean I am one!” she protested.

“Certain farmers around here have reported their vegetables missing,” said Gandalf, “And Lobelia worked tiredly on the doilies decorating your home.”

“Enough!” she pointed at the wizard, “I was a child, and Lobelia does not even notice. I am not a burglar, and I would have told you all if any of you had bothered to tell me what this blasted meeting was about in the first place!”

“Would you like to read it?” asked Balin, handing it to Thorin, who shoved it at Bilbo, hitting her in the stomach with the piece of parchment.

“By the Valar,” the contract was picked up and used as a weapon, striking the back of the dwarf king’s head. 

She bristled as every dwarf in the company grew silent, waiting for Thorin’s reaction. He turned, anger evident on his face, but picked up the contract and handed it into her waiting hand. She turned to read it, walking into the hallway where the light was better. Conversation returned. Thorin stood to whisper something to the wizard.

“I cannot guarantee her safety,” warned Thorin.

“Understood,” said Gandalf.

“Nor will I be responsible for her fate,” stated Thorin, looking at Gandalf.

“I do not remember either asking for such treatment, or accepting your offer,” said Bilbo, returning, setting the contract on the table, and sitting, “Incineration, really now?”

“Oh aye, it’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye,” began Bofur.

“Yes, I realize that dragons do have that ability, thank you again Master Bofur,” snapped the hobbit, resting her head on her hand as she sat once more.

“Are you alright lass?” asked Balin.

“Let me think,” said Bilbo, holding up her other hand.

“Think furnace with wings,” supplied Bofur “Flash of light, searing pain, then puff, you’re nothing more than a pile of ash.”

“I need the map,” she demanded.

The previous parchment was handed to her. She analyzed the piece of parchment closely, before she looked up, turning to look at Gandalf, glaring again.

“I suspect you’d take the path through the Greenwood,” she asked Gandalf, her voice lowering. His silence was answer enough.

“Now Bilbo,” he was interrupted when the screeching of a chair signaled the hobbit lass stood up once more.

“We need to have a private talk, Gandalf,” her glare could have frozen lakes two times over, “Starting with inviting strangers into my home, and ending with signing me up for these quests.”

The hobbit lass led the wizard into the living room, where she glared at the wizard until he sat down.

“Before you start,” he asked, “Could we have a cup of tea.”

The lass signaled to go ahead and ask for it. Gandalf called out to the dwarves, and ten minutes later, Dori appeared with two cups of tea. Both thanked him when he handed them their cups, Bilbo stopping from her pacing to accept the small token. As soon as he left, he reported to the others how the lass seemed extremely angry, and how the wizard looked ready for a scolding. The voices they then heard confirmed their suspicions- the two knew each other from past ventures, and were having a row.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love her sass!!! i had some friends read it over, and they all burst out laughing at her and thorn


	6. Chapter 6

“Truly, you care very little for the troubles of those you call friends when the fate of Middle Earth comes to your door!” snapped Bilbo, “You know perfectly well I am done with any sort of adventure outside of the Shire!”

“You’ve been sitting quietly for far too long!”

“Who are you to decide that?”

“Tell me, when did doilies, and your mother’s dishes, become so important to you?” asked Gandalf.

“When they became all I had left of her,” snapped Bilbo, turning to meet eyes with the wizard.

“I remember a young hobbit who was always running off searching after elves in the woods,” began Gandalf, “Stay out late, come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs, and fireflies. A young hobbit who would like nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire!”

“And that young hobbit got her mother killed because of her adventure’s, because she got too curious and to meddlesome, and her mother paid the price,” snarled Bilbo, “I have other responsibilities now.”

“That was not your fault. Your mother wanted you to see the world! You wanted to see the world. The world is not in your books and maps,” said Gandalf, “It’s out there.”

“I saw enough of the world!” yelled Bilbo, standing, “I saw enough.”

“You saw a portion, one that devastated you, and robbed you of your…”

“My innocence? My light? Please, Bungo said it all, how I was a shadow of my former self, a shell that cracked under grief,” she yelled, turning to look at the fire, “I have responsibilities, now.”

“You protect them, bleed for them, but they do not accept you,” said Gandalf, “You do not belong sitting here.”

“I don’t want acceptance, and I don’t hunt for recognition or glory,” hissed Bilbo, glaring at Gandalf, “I will never belong anywhere.”

“Belladonna and Bungo gave you a home, they loved you!” said Gandalf, “Bungo adopted you and treated you as his own!”

“And it got his wife killed,” retorted Bilbo, “I only have Took foolishness in me, and I saw its work done. I protect the Shire now.”

“The Fell Winter has passed, Bilbo, you can venture out,” said Gandalf, softly.

“Oh yes, and leave more hobbits to their deaths? Bungo paid the price for growing comfortable after the Fell Winter,” she yelled back.

“He never blamed you for that. You had no way of knowing the orcs had reached your home,” comforted Gandalf.

“Enough,” snapped Bilbo, “Why did you not tell me when you saw me this morning? Explain the whole thing? What if I had reacted badly and attacked the dwarves? Did you even think of that?”

“Do not tell me you were not out of sorts this morning,” he rationalized.

“Excuse me? Out of sorts?” she looks indignantly at the wizard, “A wizard I had not seen for quite some time comes and starts asking me riddles, then mentions an adventure, when the last adventure I went with him ended with my mother’s death. Yes, I was bloody well out of sorts, old man!”

“You grew so much, you suffered so much, this might heal you,” said Gandalf.

“Heal me? You have a talent for embellishment, Gandalf,” she raised an arm to lean on the mantle and looked into the flame. “The journey to the mountain would go through the Mirkwood,” stated Bilbo, turning to look at the seated Gandalf, “Can you guarantee that I would come back?”

“No,” admitted Gandalf, looking at her intently, “And if you do, you will not be the same.”

“Is that meant to be comforting?” asked Bilbo.

“My dear Bilbo,” began Gandalf, rising and hugging Bilbo, “It is.”

Small arms wrapped around the wizard’s larger frame, tightening when the wizard gently cradled the hobbit’s head. He raised the hobbit’s head, lifting it so he could wipe the tears that had gathered at her eyes.

“She would not have wanted you to wither away like this. Bungo would not have stood for such self-pity, either,” he advised, “You do their memories a disservice with such behavior.”

“No.”

The hobbit lass stood silent for a moment. When she finally looked up, a question littered her facial expression.

“My father…” she began, “Do they even know I am half-elven?” she asked.

“No, my dear, they do not,” he replied.

“They barely accept me when they think I am a simple hobbit, I shudder to think of their reaction should they suddenly be enlightened to the truth of my heritage,” she answered then, returning to her cup of tea and then returning to stand in front of the fire.

“They need not know,” he supplied.

“As if such an idea could be even entertained,” she snapped at him before turning back to the fire, “Especially if the journey leads through the Mirkwood.”

“You underestimate them.”

“I underestimate them in tolerance of outsiders,” she replied, “They seemed well enough at ease with your remarkable assistance, old friend.”

“Not all of them have such hindered views,” he answered, “And they like me just fine.”

“Perhaps the older one, mayhap the youngest three, but none other,” she started, “and there lies the final fault. Thirteen in number.”

“Numbers do not win a battle.”

“A battle with a dragon is no battle. This quest is stacked against the company, Gandalf, and it brings me no joy nor satisfaction to see such odds, but I see no point in it.”

“Bella,” he began.

“It’s Bilbo, Gandalf,” she snapped, staring into the fire.

“If that is your final decision…”

“It is.”

“I shall inform the dwarves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Life is a mess


	7. Chapter 7

The younger drwarrows stood around the hall, trying to listen to the conversation. Most of the older ones had lit their pipes and were resting around the living area, comfortably sitting in the armchairs and enjoying the glow of the fire. When the door finally opened, most dwarfs jumped up when Bilbo briskly walked out, halting to observe the dwarves around her home. 

“Master Hobbit?” asked Bofur.

“I bid you all good night, gentlemen,” she announced, “And good luck with your venture. You are all welcome to spend the night and breakfast here tomorrow morning before you go on your way.”

She turned backwards to face Gandalf.

“It was good to see you Gandalf,” she said, “And I hope to see you again soon. Good night.”

With that, she turned and headed into the hall. The dwarves turned to look at Thorin, who gazed questioningly at Gandalf. 

“It appears we have lost our burglar,” said Balin.

“For now,” said Gandalf, walking past the dwarfs, contract in hand, and toward the door the hobbit just entered, “We still have hours until the morning.”

“Probably for the best,” continued Balin when the wizard left the hall, “The odds were always against us.”

While the older dwarf rambled on, Thorin gazed at the retreating back of the hobbit until she was no in sight, back disappearing through a door. He then turned to look at Balin.

“After all, what are we?” continued Balin, “Merchants, miners, tinkers, toymakers…” he chuckled, “Hardly the stuff of legend.”

“There are a few warriors amongst us,” added Thorin, grinning at Balin slightly.

“Old warriors,” corrected Balin, eyeing him knowingly.

“I would take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the iron hills, for when I called upon them they answered. Loyalty, honor, a willing heart,” he listed, “I can ask for no more than that.”

Balin stood. “You don’t have to do this. You have a choice. You’ve done honorably by our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains. A life of peace and plenty, a life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor.”  
“From my grandfather to my father, this,” Thorin held the key up, “Has come to me. They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland,” he paused slightly, “There is no choice Balin. Not for me.”

The older dwarf stared at Thorin sadly, gazing at him with knowing eyes that spoke of past hurts and hopes. He remembered all the responsibility Thorin shouldered, all the work and suffering he went through to rebuild their lives and thought back to the king’s unhappiness through the years. He wished for the return of Erebor that much was obvious, but it was not until Balin truly recalled the past years that he saw the Durin heir’s mannerisms for what they were: complacent with his present, but longing for his ancestral home. He nodded.

“And we are with you laddie,” he announced, clapping Thorin on the back, “We will see it done.”

The two dwarfs exchanged a look when the wizard returned down the hall, but followed him into the living room area, where the rest of the dwarfs had distributed themselves around the room, almost all smoking their pipes. Gandalf also took a seat, lighting his pipe once more, while Thorin accepted a pipe from Dwalin. The king then proceeded to walk to the fireplace, gazing at the embers, not knowing that he was mimicking a certain hobbit lass. 

Quiet enveloped the dwarrows, each lost to his own mind. Thoughts swirled through their brains, some sticking to the forefront of their contemplations others flying serenely by, passing through their attention as peacefully as the smoke passed their mouths. The fire cast a gentle glow on all the dwarrows, allowing some light to enter the room and illuminate it. As they settled, a hum began. No one was sure who exactly began it, but they all followed it, adding their voices to the melody as it rang through the hobbit hole. Not a single dwarf noticed the hobbit rise from her bed and sit by one of the posts that framed her mattress. She listened attentively to the song that infiltrated her home. When the deep voice of the king rang out in song, the dwarrows continued to add their own voices to the tune that told about their lost home. 

Far over, the misty mountain’s cold,  
To dungeons deep and caverns old,  
We must away,  
Ere break of day,  
To find our long, forgotten gold.

Quietly, the hobbit lass stood from her bed and walked to where the sound originated from, stopping at the entrance; the wood and wall hid her from view, so not a single dwarf knew she was there. As the others joined in, her head fell back to the wall, mind lost in memories.  
The pines were roaring on the height,  
The winds were moaning, in the night,  
The fire was red, it flaming spread,  
The trees like torches, blazed with light.

Their song ended, deep sighs and breaths punctuating the grand finale as the dwarrows once more relaxed into their seats. A sudden noise, light and barely audible, grabbed their attention. The hobbit lass appeared once more, face somber in the firelight. 

“Dwarf king, Gandalf, I would speak with you,” she called out.

The two stood, following her out and into the sitting room area next to the door. They sat around the small table there, while the hobbit looked out the window. 

“Bilbo?” asked Gandalf, “Have you had a change of heart.”

“It appears, old wizard, that I still have a soft spot for music,” admitted the hobbit, turning to look at the two males, “I will assist your company.”

“Splendid!” said Gandalf.

“What skill, exactly, can you add to my company?” asked Thorin, “For we have a cook, and I do not truly believe you a burglar.”

“I suppose you shall have to be proven wrong then, dwarf,” snapped Bilbo, “Gandalf, what is the plan from here?”

“Pardon?” replied Thorin.

“The path? Where did you plan to begin? Do you have all your supplies, money, the path laid out? Well?” she said.

“We were of the mind to purchase our supplies Bree, and stay at the Prancing Pony,” said Gandalf.

“Indeed,” said Thorin, “We planned to spend no more than three days in the town.”

Bilbo sat at the table to think.

“There are matters I must attend to,” she announced, “I shall meet you at Bree.”

“Should you detain us with frivolous nonsense, hobbit, you shall be left behind,” announced Thorin, glaring.

“First of all, dwarf, the ride to Bree is not a day long and I imagine, since you are traveling with a large company, that it may take you longer than the regular three days. If you think you know my lands better than I, dwarf, you are more a fool than a Took,” she snapped again, “And secondly, you may want to be more careful with your possessions, lest a burglar steal them.”

She held up the key Gandalf has just given Thorin that very night. The dwarf king frantically searched his pockets, shocked that the key was stolen right under his nose. As the key flew gracefully through the air and onto the table, the lass gave a mocking bow and turned on her heel, delicate bare feet padding as she headed to the living room.

“That infernal…” began Thorin, stopping when Gandalf shot him a look.

“That was merited,” the wizard chastised, “Let us sleep, we begin our journey on the morrow!”

The two males walked back to where the other dwarrows to find the lass giving out blankets and pillows to sleep with. When she spotted Thorin, she rolled her eyes and offered him one as well. He grumbled but thanked her. She turned to leave, but looked back right before she turned the corner to disappear from sight.

“I shall prepare breakfast for you, then I bid that you lock the door on your way out while I leave to attend to my business,” she turned to the wizard, “Use your spare, old man,” she teased, “Good night, gentlemen, I shall see you on the morrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love it? Hate it?


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, the dwarrows awake to the smells of decadent bacon and sizzling eggs. These heavenly odors wafted through the rooms, getting stronger the closer they came to the kitchen. Once there, they found the hobbit lass emptying eggs from a pan onto a plate, which she proceeded to add to a table full of goods; everything from scones, a mixture of blueberry, raspberry, and pumpkin, to eggs, scrambled and otherwise, to other mouthwatering pastries and breakfast foods taunted them, begging to be eaten. 

“Good morning,” she said, signaling to Ori and Bombur already seated and waiting patiently, “We’ve been up cooking for quite a while. Please, join us.”

Gloin, Oin, Bifur, Bofur, and Nori did just that, settling with their family member and beginning to eat. The second one of them so much as started thinking of rowdiness, however, they received a glare promising death from a hobbit, which settled him down considerably. Dori, having tried one of the scones with the tea the hobbit lass put out, immediately began a conversation with her about cooking and tea brewing. Both came out of this conversation much wiser, if not a tad more wishful to bring along ingredients for scones. 

When Fili and Kili, finally awoke, they entered the kitchen hesitantly, searching for the hobbit. Upon finding her, they looked at each other, then walked toward her, stopping in front of her.

“Mistress Hobbit,” began Fili.

“Call me Bilbo, please,” she interrupted, wearing a face of amusement.

“We cannot!” declared Kili, “For we have wronged you, when you opened your house and kitchen to us.”

“We are truly sorry for our behavior last night. It was unbecoming and shameful,” continued Fili.

“It’s quite alright, but thank you for apologizing,” she said kindly, “I’d rather not start out the journey with harsh feelings. Apology accepted. Please, though, call me Bilbo.”

“Ms. Boggins?” asked Kili.

“It’s… just Bilbo please,” she sighed, shaking her head fondly.

The two young dwarfs looked at each other, beaming in pride at their maturity and cleverness. They set an example for their uncle! Said dwarf finally walked in, flanked by Balin, with whom their future path was being discussed. They sat at the table, both acknowledging the others and the hobbit was a simple nod, though Balin added a kind smile. The last to walk in, Dwalin, made a straight line for the scones, remembering from the night before how delicious they were. However, a small hand stopped him from reaching the basket.

“Wait a second Dwalin, I made you some scones from last night,” she informed him, “They are cooling by the window.”

“What kind are those?” asked Dori, while Dwalin retrieved his treat.

“Full of nuts, Master Dori,” she said, “From walnut to almonds to peanuts. I sprinkle them with cinnamon before they cool, and…”

Breakfast was a jovial affair, where everyone enjoyed themselves and ate heartily. After, all that cooked rested while the rest washed dishes, singing a merry tune while juggling plates. At the end of that, the hobbit announced she was going to change before leaving, so please be mindful to lock her door on the way out. They all agreed. As they packed up, the wizard appeared, entering the house and greeting those inside.

“I hope you do not plan on disappearing during the journey Gandalf,” remarked Thorin, “That may be slightly problematic.”

“I’d get used to it Master Dwarf,” called Bilbo, entering the living room, “He is prone to such antics.”

The hobbit lass looked the part of burglar now. Brown leather trousers allowed for easy movement and waterproof clothing. A white, long-sleeve blouse with tight sleeves, easy for picking things up quietly, was tucked into a dark red, almost brown corset like vest. A dark brown belt and pair of boots completed her clothes, with dark brown vambraces and cream-colored arm warmers under that. A beige colored cloak was wrapped around her shoulders, and two handles could be seen peaking out from her belt. 

“ Sometimes, I wonder at your opinion of me,” returned the wizard.

“Sometimes, I wonder at you,” she teased, “Anyway, old man, you missed breakfast.”

“Alas, this poor old man will have to go hungry,” said Gandalf.

“Old cod, I saved you some scones. They ‘re in the oven, hidden. Go get them before the dwarfs find them.” He left to do just that.

“You look far better suited for travel now, hobbit,” remarked Thorin. She turned a look with raised eyebrow at him.

“Yet you are still ill suited at manners, dwarf,” she responded, “But I suppose it is to be expected. I shall meet you at Bree.”

She began walking out of the house. Thorin followed. 

“You need a pony,” he stated.

“I have no such need,” she answered, turning to look at him with her hands on her hips.

“You need one to ride to Bree.”

“I have a pony,” she said, as they rounded the corner and spotted said pony, already tacked and packed with her belongings, “She suits me just fine.”

“I… pardon,” he coughed awkwardly, “I suppose I ought to shut my mouth then?”

“If nothing else, our arguing will bring the company a source of amusement,” she pondered, “Or annoyance, at which point I will volunteer you as a peace offering.” They both chuckled.

“I…” he began, “My nephews were right, this morning.”

“Oh, you heard them? They are sweet boys, young, but sweet.”

“Yes, through our hardships, they remain innocent and naive,” he said with a hint of worry and fondness. 

“Let them be so,” she said, mounting her pony, “It’s a better life, one seen with optimistic eyes.”

“You sound like you know the difference,” he said, looking at her.

“Had it been anyone else acting like a complete barbarian in my home, I would have thrown you out the second you opened your mouth,” she admitted, “Don’t let that get to your head.”

“Ha,” Thorin grinned, “Then let me offer my apologies, hobbi… er, lass.”

“Nice catch, though it could still use improvement. Apology accepted.”

With that, she galloped off.

“What a frustrating creature,” mumbled Thorin to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me just throw 3 chapters at you at once lol


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I will try to update more frequently and write lots over the holidays!

Thirteen exhausted dwarves and a wizard tiredly walked into the inn, the Prancing Pony, at Bree. Twelve of them separated form their leader and the wizard, relaxing into tables. Immediately, the rowdy environment of the tavern roused their spirits enough for drinking and merry chatter to begin. Thorin and Gandalf secured rooms for the company for the night, making sure to ask about the hobbit lass. They needn’t had bothered, as the cheering crowd from a corner revealed the location of said hafling. 

A drinking game had ensued, where a man, a ranger by the look of it, challenged a hobbit to consume the substance until the loser lost their wits. By the sight of the various tankards surrounding the two, the game had gone on for a significant amount of time. Curious, some of the company approached. Nori and Bofur, especially, found themselves curious as to the participants. 

“You can keep your fancy ales, You can drink them by the flagon. But the only brew for the brave and true…” sang the hobbit as she held her mug, swishing it to the tune, “Comes from the Green Dragon!” 

With that, she chugged down the amber liquid in a quick, effortless gulp, shocking not only the men surrounding her but her dwarven companions. Bofur signaled to some of the company, who began chanting the hobbit’s name as encouragement. When the ranger similarly downed his drink, they all booed ferociously. 

“You’ve gotten yourself some admirers,” teased the ranger.

“Oh Glade,” returned the hobbit, “Are you jealous?”

“Rightly so, Bilbo!” said Glade, “For I thought our love was a thing of songs!”

“The only thing of songs around here, my friend, is our drinking prowess,” stated Biblo with sarcastic bluntness, quickly followed by the downing of her drink.

“Ah, alas, I must disappoint you then,” began Glade, “For I have patrol in the morn.” He turned to the crowds, bowed graciously in jest, and proclaimed Bilbo the winner, “Until our next rematch!”

The cheering of the dwarves was unparalleled by the rest of the crowds. While said mob dispersed, the small hobbit laughed at her friend as he ordered some food.

“Glade, if you knew you could not finish, why propose the challenge?”

“Curiosity, Bilbo,” he confessed, “I hoped to obtain more information about your mysterious journey with some ale.”

“You had only but to ask, my friend,” she reprimanded.

“I feared you would not answer.”

“That speaks more to your lack of faith in my friendship than anything else,” she angrily stated.

“Bilbo, you are traveling with a dwarf king, and you remain vague with the details of your journey as we gathered supplies, forgive me for being cautious,” explained Glade, “I am concerned.”

“Does seeing Gandalf relieve you slightly?” she asked, understanding.

“Yes, all the same, I’d rather accompany you.”

“Miss. Baggins, I hope you are not recruiting,” intervened Thorin, glowering darkly at the inquisitive ranger.

“Ah, Thorin, cheery as ever I see,” she greeted, “Glade, meet the dwarven king you spoke of. No Thorin, Glade is a friend, with whom I was simply catching up with.”

“Pleasure,” said the ranger sarcastically.

“I’m sure it is,” shot back the dwarf.

“We were just saying our farewells,” mediated the hobbit, “Goodbye, Glade, I shall see you when I return, yes?”

“Which will be?” prompted the ranger.

“Soon,” Bilbo said and vanished with Thorin, who angrily gripped her arm as soon as they were a distance away.

“Hobbit, watch your flirtations! We shall not risk the fate of this quest on a whims of a woman’s paramours!” he angrily reprimanded.

The narrowing of her eyes and tight fist her hands formed were not enough of a warning for Thorin, as a second later he found himself with his arm behind his back, painfully pulled toward his shoulder.

“Let’s get something out of the way,” hissed Bilbo, “You may doubt me, you may dislike me, fine, you are entitled to that. But do not insult me without knowing me. Do so again, and whatever Gandalf says, I leave you to your fate, with a bloody nose and broken pride.”

Abruptly, she let go of his arm and shoved him away from her. She walked away and settled down next to Gandalf, who offered her a whiff of his pipe. Balin waved Thorin over to the table occupied by the rest of the company, who then settled among them and began to chat with Dwalin.

“A bit harsh, I think,” commented Gandalf to Bilbo, “He did not mean anything by it.”  
“Then he shouldn’t have said anything,” she retorted angrily, “I despise being judged on account of my gender. As if I were an adolescent with a crush!”

“Bilbo,” but Gandalf was interrupted.

“Miss. Baggins,” squeaked Ori quietly, “May I have a quick word? I noticed some books in your home about elves, and well, I cannot ask the others…”

“Of course Ori,” she responded, “Pull up a chair, Gandalf is quite knowledgeable himself.”

The hobbit lass’s anger calmed considerably as she spoke to the younger dwarf. Maybe, she thought to herself, she could cut Thorin a bit of a break, as he was attempting to regain his lost home. Maybe she overreacted. Maybe.


	10. Chapter 10

Walking through the forest provided very little entertainment for the company. As such, most of the amusement lighting up the faces of the travelers came from mischief or games within the group itself. One such example included the abundant bets taking place. Bilbo found out about these little games after Kili reluctantly paid Fili when, after Dori asked Gandalf to “do something about this deluge” in reference to the thundering storm pouring upon them, Gandalf snapped at the poor dwarf by saying “It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard.”

Bilbo laughed, asking if the other wizards were great, or more like the Grey Wizard, making Gandalf splutter indignantly at the joke. It was at this point that she saw Kili, pouting and grumbling, hand over 2 coins to his brother. She slowed her pony to match their pace to inquire.

“It is quite simple Miss. Boggins,” said Fili, who quickly amended it to Bilbo at the glare he received, “Dwarrow enjoy games, entertainment, and other amusing pastimes. Traveling, we are limited in what we can do to entertain ourselves. Bets are always easy to make.”

“What on Earth do you bet about?”

“We bet on how Gandalf would react when someone from the company asked him to stop the rain,” began Kili, “And on whether or not you would kill, maim, or simply injure Thorin the night at the inn.”

“Hmmm” she muttered, “I bet you that by the end of the journey, either I will kill Thorin, or he will kill me.”

“We are not stupid,” joked Fili while Kili laughed, “We only take bets that we can win!”

They all laughed. Bilbo was glad to see that their uncle’s reprimand from the night before had not taken away their light innocence or kindness. Yes, joking about orcs is immature and disrespectful to those who have suffered at their hands, but it is difficult to teach such a lesson to a youngster who had never experienced a raid or massacre. Bilbo knew these boys would encounter such fiends by the end of their journey, so she allowed them some leeway in such matters. 

The story Balin told afterwards kept her up most of the night. She knew stories of the White Orc, and knew she was lucky to have survived her encounter with him. If anything, the story furthered the respect she had for Thorin. However, her time line did not match up with Thorin’s. He claimed the orc was dead, killed by his wounds, but if that was, it meant he attacked her and her mother before the Battle at Moria, but that was impossible. She pondered this conundrum the entire night and it still kept her mind busy even now. The two boys noticed her pensiveness after their jovial jokes.

“Bilbo?” asked Kili, snapping the hobbit out of her thoughts.

“Yes Kili?” she answered.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Kili.

“Last night,” she started, but hesitated to bring up their scolding.

“Oh yes,” began Fili, blushing, “We are young, we know, but we did not mean anything…”

Oh I know, not that,” she explained, “The story about your uncle and the White Orc.”

“What about it?” asked Fili, both dwarves listening attentively. 

“Your uncle said he died,” she said.

“Yes,” agreed Kili.

“When exactly did the Battle of Azanulbizar occur? I think I am mixing up the date?”

“Um,” Kili looked to his brother.

“About 142 years ago,” responded Fili, “Why do you ask?”

Bilbo went pale.

“I must speak with Gandalf,” she urged her pony forward, trotting until she reached the wizard’s side, “We need to speak privately.”

“Of what dear girl?” asked Gandalf, “The greatness of other wizards?”

“Of Azog,” she whispered. He turned a grave look at her.

“We’ll camp here for the night! Fili, Kili look after the ponies! Make sure you stay with them. Oin, Gloin, get a fire going…” called out Thorin.

“A farmer lived here with his family,” started Gandalf, making Bilbo look at him sharply.

“I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley.”

“I have told you already, I will not go near that place,” responded Thorin angrily.

“Why not? The elves could help us. We could get food, rest, advice.”

“I do not need their advice.”

“We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us.”

“Help? A dragon…”

Bilbo left the two to fight at their will, instead examining the ruins of the farmhouse. When Gandalf stormed off, she ran to catch up to him.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To seek the company of the only one around here who has any sense!”

“So to seek out me?” she asked.

“Myself, Ms. Baggins! I’ve had quite enough of dwarves for one day!”

She stopped running, looking back at Thorin’s glower, “You and me both, wizard,” she mumbled. 

“Come on Bombur! We are hungry!” yelled Thorin. 

After a while, Bilbo grew concerned at the length of the wizard’s absence.

“Is he coming back?” she asked.

“He’s a wizard, he does as he pleases,” said Bofur, “Don’t you know that?”

“I worry,” she mumbled, recalling her fears about Azog. 

“Take this to the lads will you?” asked Bofur, “They are probably hungry.”

“Alright.” As the hobbit made the short trek to the two brothers, she kept counting and recounting her life events, fearful that she was messing up and worrying for nothing.

As she neared them, however, the two young dwarves sat with perplexed and slightly fearful expressions. They looked to be counting the ponies. 

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“We’re supposed to be looking out for the ponies,” began Kili. 

“Only we’ve encountered a slight problem,” continued Fili.

“We had sixteen,” said Kili “Now there’s fourteen.”

“Daisy and Bungo are missing,” concluded Fili. 

“Well, that’s not good. That is not good at all. Shouldn’t we tell Thorin?” said Bilbo.

“Uhh, no. Let’s not worry him. As our official burglar, we thought you might like to look into it,” said Fili. 

She gave them both unimpressed looks.

“Do you see those trees? Something big uprooted those. Go get your damn uncle,” snapped Bilbo.. “Kili, come with me.”

Fili nodded and took off running. Kili followed the hobbit. 

“There’s a light!” said Kili, ducking his head at the ‘shhh’ he received from Bilbo. 

“Trolls,” whispered Bilbo, “What are trolls doing this far south?!”

“Are they not normally this far south?” asked Kili.

“No, Kili,” she answered, a frown gracing her features, “They are not.”

“There are the ponies!” whispered Kili.

“They’ve also got Myrtle and Minty,” said Bilbo, “We have to do something, Thorin is taking too long.”

“I agree!” Kili was about to rush into the field when Bilbo pulled him back by the scruff of his jacket. 

“Do not run in there half cocked! Supposedly, you are smarter than trolls, yes?” she scolded, “No, we have to be clever. I have an idea.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the long wait! I will try to be more consistent with the updates. I read through the first chapter and realized there are changes I would like to make to the story. However, since I took forever to update, I won't begin the re-write of those chapters until I finish the story. I hope you all enjoy!

“Do you know this plant?” asked Bilbo, holding up a plant with black berries. The dwarf shook his head, so she elaborated, “This is belladonna. The poison nightshade is made from this. If we place enough of the plant into their cauldron, we could kill them before any fighting even begins.”

“But poison, isn’t that dishonorable?”

“Kili, we are not assassinating another hobbit or dwarf, we are ending the existence of evil trolls that ate that poor farmer and his family while ensuring our company remains unharmed.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“Pick as many as these as you can find. Then, I need you to create a distraction. Fire an arrow into the forest, hopefully the noise will draw their attention way from their… um meal, enough for me to slip the berries,” she explained the plan. At his nod, the two parted ways and began picking the berries. 

“That’s my grog!” they heard a troll say as they gathered the berries.

Kili met Bilbo behind the pens where the trolls imprisoned their ponies. He handed her the berries. She nodded and whispered “wait for me signal!” 

Bilbo slipped by the side of the pen, waiting for the troll to place his make-shift mug on the ground in front of her. When he did, she quickly squeezed out the juice inside one handful of the berries into the container before scurrying to hide behind the troll that was cooking. She was able to squeeze another handful into the second cup of grog. After she hurried to hide behind the pen when the troll turned to grab an ingredient from a small pack behind him. The middle troll drank his poisoned grog, downing it quickly. She turned to look at Kili, and raising her arm and signaling into the forest opposite them. He nodded, and disappeared. Suddenly, a noise distracted the trolls.

“Was that?” asked the cook.

“More nags?” asked the third troll.

“I no feel so good,” complained the second, grimacing as his hands began twitching.

The two trolls stood to investigate while the third fell forward, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“I no see notin,” complained the third troll.

“Look, some’n’s runnin’ here,” exclaimed the cook. 

Eleven dwarrow burst through the forest, weapons raised and voices belting out war cries. Bilbo slapped her hand to her face in desperation. She turned and held out a hand to Kili, signaling him to come towards her. He frowned, but obeyed. Using the distraction the dwarves provided, Bilbo sprinted forward, squeezing the remaining berries into the cauldron and running back into the forest. Soon, the fighting ceased.

“Drop arms, or we tear his off!” yelled the cook as he and the other troll held the dwarf with star hair, tugging on his arms and legs.

“They got Nori!” exclaimed Kili.

“Yes, and it’s up to us to save them,” answered Bilbo. She smirked, “Good thing their soup is full of nightshade. Now, we just need to convince them to eat it,” she looked at Kili, “And I think I have a good idea on how to do that.”

She loosely tied rope around his hands, allowing him to slip out of the binds with ease, before marching him to the clearing. The trolls tied the dwarves into sacks or attached them to a spit, rolling them over the fire.

“Excuse me!” she yelled out. The trolls and dwarves turned to her, even the ones turning on the spit, “You have something that belongs to me, and I’d very much like it back,” she tugged Kili forward, “As you can see, you’ve stolen the rest of my dwarves!”

“Whot are you?” questioned one of the trolls.

“I’m a hobbit!” she exclaimed, “And we hobbits love to eat a good dwarf! Imagine my luck, stumbling upon this group, but then you stole them from me!”

“No, they ran to us!” protested the cook.

“No, they ran from me!” she countered, “And you grabbed them before I could recapture them! Besides, you’re cooking them all wrong!”

“You little liar!” yelled one.

“No, no, I wanna hear what she has to say. How should I cook dwarf?” asked the cook, looking interested.

“The secret to cooking dwarf is to,” she looked at Kili, who shrugged, “To skin them first!” 

The dwarrow squirmed and yelled in protest. Yells of “Ye traitor!” and “I won’t forget that!” abounded. 

“That’s rubbish! Nothing wrong with raw dwarf!” the third troll grabbed Bombur by his feet, holding him over his mouth, “Nice and crunchy!”

“Not him!” yelled Kili.

“He’s infected!” shouted Bilbo. Kili looked at her, confused. Bilbo’s eyes, widened. “He’s got, parasites in his… tubes!” the troll shrieked and threw Bombur. Seeing this reaction, Bilbo continued, “In fact, they’re all infected! Nasty business, I would not risk it.”

“We don’t have parasites, you have parasites!” came the protests from the dwarves. Kili and Bilbo shot pointed looks at Thorin, who kicked at Fili and Oin in front of him. The protests changed to “I’ve got parasites as big as me arm!” “Mine are the biggest parasites!” 

“My parasites are huge,” agreed Kili, nodding sagely.

“In fact,” began Bilbo, looking to the dead troll that remained unnoticed, “That’s why your friend died!”

The two trolls turned to look at their companion, exclaiming “Will!”

“What’d you do to him?!” demanded the cook.

“Nothing. He tried to eat this dwarf here,” she pulled the rope forward, pretending to drag Kili, “So much as licked him, and dropped dead on the spot!”

The trolls gasped. 

“It’s a shame too!” she pointed to the cauldron, “If he had just had some more of that, he would have been fine!”

“What?”

“You see, I have been monitoring what ingredients you’ve added to your, um delightful stew there. Everything you added acts as an antidote to the parasites, so long as you consume enough of it!”

At that, the trolls began fighting over the cauldron, each draining half of it.

“Now are they safe to eat?” drowsed one of the trolls.

“Almost, now you simply have to wait for the antidote to take effect,” explained Bilbo.

“No! How could you!” exclaimed Kili, sinking to his knees in an act of desperation. The dwarves remained silent, worried any noise or movement might attract the trolls’ attention.  
Suddenly, both trolls began mumbling something about “Not feeling good” before they dropped forward.

“Oh, that was faster than I was expecting,” remarked Bilbo.

“The dawn will take… Oh, I guess it won’t.” Gandalf hoped onto the boulder in front of the company, overlooking them.

“Bloody late as always, wizard!” exclaimed Bilbo as she and Kili began cutting the ropes binding the dwarrow.


End file.
